I Forgive You
by Canon Archives
Summary: One of the many Shell Cottage moments. I know it's overdone but I've been wanting to do this for a while. Please read it!


**All Romione fans have done this moment, so I had to.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

Ron landed on the beach in front of Shell Cottage and his knees immediately buckled. Hermione's body lay limp in his arms.

"Hermione," he whimpered. His voice was hoarse from screaming, and the only thing he seemed to be able to say was her name. She was so cold.

She wasn't moving, and Ron felt his stomach flip as dread filled his chest. "Hermione!" He said louder, desperately willing her to open her eyes. He felt for a pulse. It was there, thank Merlin, but it was faint.

Ron felt tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't even know when he had started crying._ I love you_, he thought as he kissed her temple, _I love you so much and you have no idea_. _But everything is going to be okay now, Hermione, I promise. No one can hurt you anymore._

She wasn't conscious, but at least she was alive. Maybe he would be able to tell her those things, after all of this was over. Maybe he still had a chance to make things right. He left chaste kisses along her cheeks, ignoring the dirt and dried blood that covered the both of them.

"Ron!" Bill yelled as he ran up to him. Ron pushed a few pieces of hair away from Hermione's face and then slowly looked up. Bill was watching him wide-eyed. "Ron, is she..."

Realizing what his brother must be thinking, Ron shook his head vigorously. "No! No, she's alive," he choked out. He swallowed down the sob that was threatening to come out. It didn't stop the tears from filling his vision.

"Bill, you've gotta help me," he cried. He sounded like a child but he didn't really care. "She was tortured so badly and then glass shattered on top of her and she's breathing and there's a pulse but I don't know..." The words were coming out of his mouth all in one breath, and his voice sounded foreign.

"Okay," his older brother said softly. Bill helped Ron off the ground and Ron held Hermione tightly in his arms. She felt so _fragile_. Hermione was _not_ fragile.

Bill let him into the warm house, and he was greeted by Fleur and Luna, who watched him worriedly.

"Is she going to be alright?" Luna asked airily, though the concern was genuine. Ron didn't know how to answer, so he just silently acknowledged her and she nodded.

"Take her into the upstairs bedroom, Ron," Bill told him gently. "Fleur will tend to her."

Ron followed the instructions and went into the bedroom, lying Hermione down gently. Fleur came in after him with ointments, bandages, and blankets.

Even though she was inside from the cold, Hermione was now shivering uncontrollably. Fleur handed Ron a cool cloth and he placed it on her forehead. He held her hand as Fleur worked, mumbling reassuring words quietly. His eyes never left her face, and he began to relax as color started to return to her cheeks.

After cleaning off the majority of the dirt and grime, and once all the cuts and bruises and broken bones were treated, Fleur covered Hermione in warm blankets. Bill came in to let them know that Harry had made it to the house as well.

"She will be alright, _mon chéri,_" Fleur told Ron. "She will be in pain for a little while, but her injuries should be healed by tomorrow." Ron thanked her and his brother and they both graciously left the room.

Ron remained motionless on the bed, and tried to breathe in order to calm himself down. His heart was still pounding from the adrenaline._ She's safe now_, he said to himself. _She's alive._ But a very persistent thought kept nudging at the back of his mind: Just because she was alive didn't mean she was _sane_. He knew what had happened to Neville's parents after being tortured by the Cruciatus. Fear crept back into Ron's chest. _She's fine! _he tried to convince himself. But he didn't _know_ that.

He leaned over the bed and pressed his lips onto her forehead. "Stay with me, Hermione," he whispered against her skin. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her head again. "I need you to stay with me, love, I can't lose you now."

She didn't move, and Ron sat back up. He squeezed his eyes shut and held her hand up to his lips, lightly kissing her palm. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so sorry." He repeated the words over and over again, slowly moving her fingers over his lips. This was _his_ punishment, Ron realized. She didn't deserve any of this. It was _his_ fault she was hurt because _he's_ the one who had abandoned her, _he's_ the one who had run while she stayed strong, _he's_ the one—

The fingers he held against his lips suddenly moved. Ron froze. As the hand brushed gently against his cheek, Ron opened his eyes and found himself staring into a pair of slightly troubled brown ones.

"You don't have to be sorry, Ron," she murmured, her brow creasing in concern. "It wasn't your fault."

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but he found that he couldn't speak. As she stared up at him worriedly, and with complete recognition, he was suddenly overcome with immense relief. Letting out a sob, he leaned back over the bed and dug his head into her neck. She wrapped her arms around him comfortingly and ran her hands over his scalp.

"I was so scared," he whispered into her shoulder. "I was so scared Hermione. You were screaming and hurting and I couldn't do anything and I was stuck in the dungeon and I couldn't do _anything_—"

"Shh, Ron it's okay," she said soothingly. "I'm okay. We got away."

He breathed in her familiar scent and propped himself up on his elbows to look at her face. "How much pain are you in?" He asked.

"Some," she grimaced. "I'll heal."

He handed her a glass of water that Fleur had left on the night table and she drank it gratefully. Ron got the feeling she was worse than she was letting on, but he didn't push it. He took a moment to appreciate her—living, breathing, and beautiful—and let out a relieved sigh. She was alright. She really was alright.

Hermione's eyes suddenly widened. "Harry! Is he—"

"Harry's safe," Ron reassured her. She visably relaxed. A small grin crept over her face.

"He is quite the handful, isn't he?" She said amusedly. Like his, her voice was shot, but Ron was just grateful that she was feeling well enough to smile.

Ron laughed, mostly from the relief. "I swear to God, if You-Know-Who doesn't get to it first, I'm gonna kill him. He just _had_ to say his bloody name, didn't he?"

They were both quiet for a moment, watching each other. She was looking at him like he was the world, and all he could feel in response was a huge burden of guilt. He was such a git. She deserved someone so much better than him.

They had barely been on speaking terms before they were captured. Ron had apoligized a bazillion times for leaving, but they hadn't actually said anything to each other about it. Now, Ron spoke suddenly, unable to hold in his thoughts. "Hermione, when I came back—"

"Ron you don't need to talk about it."

"No, no I do," he insisted. "When I came back," he began again, "I swore to myself to never, ever leave your side again. And so to be forced away from you like that was the worst possible feeling... Hermione, I don't _ever_ want to leave you again. I regretted it the moment I disapparated and I just _hate_... I hate being _apart_ from you."

"Ron," Hermione said, placing her hand on his cheek. "I forgive you."

"_How_ can you forgive me?"

"Because I—" she cut herself off suddenly, like she couldn't allow herself to say what she was going to say. She dropped her hand from his face, and then squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again. "Ron, that Horcrux made you act unlike yourself. I _know_ you, and I could tell it was doing something bad to you. I don't know what, but..."

"It told me you were better off without me."

Hermione gasped. "_What?_" She asked disbelievingly.

"It convinced me," Ron said, pushing himself up so his weight was on his hands, "that I was just a useless third-wheel, and that you and Harry, even my own family, didn't really care what happened to me. It made me believe that I wasn't good enough... That I wasn't good enough for you. I'm always second best, Hermione. I've always been second best."

"Ronald Weasley," she said determinedly. "Don't you ever, _ever_ think that about yourself. How can you even... Ron, do you have _any_ idea what you mean to me? I can't _do_ this without you! You know I can't do this without you. Ron..." She shifted her head on the pillow, and suddenly a look came over Hermione's face that caused Ron's breath to catch. It was a look that could only be read one way. It was a look of raw _desire_.

Ron groaned. Leaning his forehead against hers, his eyes travelled down to her lips, and he stared at them longingly. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly, it hurt. He wanted her to know just how much he was in love with her. But there was still a barrier holding him back that he couldn't move. "_Hermione_..." He said hoarsely.

She wrapped her hands around his arms and closed her eyes. "I know," she sighed in a whisper. "I know."

She did know. Of course she knew. And for the first time in his life, Ron truly believed her. They had both wanted the same thing for the longest time, but they were both just too stubborn and too afraid to realize it. And now, now that they were both finally on the same page, the only thing keeping Ron from pressing his lips to hers was the fact that they were right in the middle of a bloody war.

"Hey, Ron, could you..." Bill came into the room and Ron sat up quickly. "Oh," Bill said, stepping back towards the door. "Am I interrupting something?"

Ron looked back down at Hermione and traced his fingers along her jaw, brushing his thumb lightly over her lips. She was still watching him with those eyes that were so full of adoration, and he wanted nothing more than to snog her senseless. Letting out a shaky sigh, he turned back to Bill. "No," Ron said. "No it's okay. What's goin' on?"

"I, er, I have some bad news," Bill said slowly. Ron felt his stomach clench and Hermione gripped his hand. He expected the worst.

"Dobby's dead," Bill said finally. "Killed by a knife in the chest. I'm sorry."

Ron felt the tears return immediately. He had never known the house elf that well, but he felt horrible. Dobby was the sole reason they were all here right now, and Ron hadn't even gotten a chance to say thank you...

"Dobby?" Hermione asked, confused. "The house elf? What was he doing there? Ron, how did he die?"

"He saved us, Hermione," Ron told her mournfully. "He saved all of us."

Hermione became teary as well and they both sat in silence as they grieved the fallen hero. It was so unfair how someone so innocent, so selfless, and so _good_, had to be the one to die.

"You should go find Harry, Ron," Hermione said quietly. "He's probably pretty shaken, himself."

Ron nodded reluctantly. He wished that for one moment he could just forget about the tragedies around them. He wanted to make up for all of the time the two of them had lost after dancing around each other for years. But they didn't have any time. Harry had to come first. They had a mission, and their priority was to keep Harry alive and focused. What happened between Ron and Hermione had to wait.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked her.

"Yes," she assured him. "I'm going to rest, but I think we should have a funeral for Dobby. It's only right."

"I'll come wake you when we do. Sleep now," he said. Ron pressed his lips to her forehead one more time and let them linger on her soft skin. When he stood up to leave the room, Hermione's eyes were already closed and she had a content smile on her face.

**Ahhh! Isn't it pretty good? This is actually the moment when they finally stopped all the nonsense about does he/she love me, and just decided yes, we're both so ridiculously in love but we can't do anything about it now. ****Anyways, please please review and tell me what you thought of my version of this moment!**


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